They went into a small morning room, leaving Digby on guard outside the study door, while Harry went off to find the ladies.

‘You were, I understand, an intimate friend of M. Lytcham Roche,’ began Poirot. ‘It is for that reason that I address myself to you primarily. In etiquette, perhaps, I should have spoken first to madame, but at the moment I do not think that is pratique.’

He paused.

‘I am, see you, in a delicate situation. I will lay the facts plainly before you. I am, by profession, a private detective.’

The financier smiled a little.

‘It is not necessary to tell me that, M. Poirot. Your name is, by now, a household word.’

‘Monsieur is too amiable,’ said Poirot, bowing. ‘Let us, then, proceed. I receive, at my London address, a letter from this M. Lytcham Roche. In it he says that he has reason to believe that he is being swindled of large sums of money. For family reasons, so he puts it, he does not wish to call in the police, but he desires that I should come down and look into the matter for him. Well, I agree. I come. Not quite so soon as M. Lytcham Roche wishes–for after all I have other affairs, and M. Lytcham Roche, he is not quite the King of England, though he seems to think he is.’

Barling gave a wry smile.

‘He did think of himself that way.’

‘Exactly. Oh, you comprehend–his letter showed plainly enough that he was what one calls an eccentric. He was not insane, but he was unbalanced, n’est-ce pas?’

‘What he’s just done ought to show that.’

‘Oh, monsieur, but suicide is not always the act of the unbalanced. The coroner’s jury, they say so, but that is to spare the feelings of those left behind.’

‘Hubert was not a normal individual,’ said Barling decisively. ‘He was given to ungovernable rages, was a monomaniac on the subject of family pride, and had a bee in his bonnet in more ways than one. But for all that he was a shrewd man.’

‘Precisely. He was sufficiently shrewd to discover that he was being robbed.’

‘Does a man commit suicide because he’s being robbed?’ Barling asked.

‘As you say, monsieur. Ridiculous. And that brings me to the need for haste in the matter. For family reasons–that was the phrase he used in his letter. Eh bien, monsieur, you are a man of the world, you know that it is for precisely that–family reasons–that a man does commit suicide.’

‘You mean?’